


The Cliff House

by Wicked_commissions



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Back Scratching, Bottom Hannibal, Coming In Pants, Fingering, First Time Sex, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Snarky Will Graham, Top Will Graham, Unsafe Sex, confession of feelings, hannibal cries a lot, kissing scars, mentions of divorce, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_commissions/pseuds/Wicked_commissions
Summary: This is my imagining of how the ending of The Wrath of the Lamb went and a loose interpretation of what I believe canonically happened after Hannibal’s escape and at the infamous cliff house in the hours before Francis’ arrival.





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be told in three chapters. This first chapter isn’t explicit but it eventually will be, which why it is tagged so. 
> 
> Thank you so much @margoonthemoon on twitter for commissioning this story, it’s been the biggest challenge of my writing life writing in canon while trying to be true to Hannibal & Will’s feelings, you’re a rockstar for waiting so long for this story, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> (I know it’s canon that Francis lets Hannibal out of his straight jacket but I thought it would be more interesting if Will did it)

Sunlight.

In his daze, the first thing Hannibal registered was the sunlight.

Streaming through the open doors of the van. He could nearly feel the heat on his skin.

Freedom.

That’s what the doors slung wide open represented.

Hannibal wanted to hop up and run out the doors but he was still strapped into the straightjacket, still locked into the little cage bolted into the side of the van. Still a prisoner. He looked around him at the dead bodies of the cops and security guards hired to assure he didn’t escape. Francis had seen to that. Hannibal’s eyes landed on Will, still alive and breathing heavily slumped against the side of the van.

Moments ago they had been speeding down the road and now they were stopped, the men around them riddled with bullet holes through their chests and skulls. Will had a small blood spatter on his left cheek from the scuffle. Francis hadn’t touched him.

Thank God.

Will’s gaze met his. Hannibal tilted his chin up, a simple gesture that Will picked up on immediately, suddenly becoming all too aware of the gore on his face. He wiped at the blood with the cuff of his jacket until he felt clean, a curt nod from Hannibal confirming it was gone.

Will felt comfortable with Hannibal behind the bars, still held immobile. He considered how he would feel if Hannibal were free in front of him. Would his comfort change? Did he trust him enough to unshackle him? Surely Hannibal wouldn’t lay a finger on him. But could he be certain?

He was bludgeoned with a choice.

Hannibal didn’t beg, didn’t move a muscle, just stared at him allowing him to make his own decision, smelling the sweat on Will’s nape as he struggled with the choice he had to make. He telepathically tried to get across that he was harmless to Will, keeping his eyes soft like a wounded and bound animal. He knew Will couldn’t resist saving him. Not his Will. Kind and empathetic Will. No matter their past, he knew in his heart of hearts Will couldn’t deny him.

After much deliberation Will got up from his seat and opened the cage, Hannibal continued staring until Will told him in a soft whisper to turn around so he could loosen the straight-jacket rendering his arms useless.

“That’s all I need,” Hannibal sighed from behind his mask. “Thank you.”

It was still tied around him but with enough slack that Hannibal could let himself out. He moved past Will out of the cage and toward the sunlight, toward freedom.

His feet made a crunching sound upon exiting the van, a sound that was music to Hannibal’s ears. Marble and cement didn’t crunch. The earthiness of it reverberated past sound and vibrated his toes. Such a small insignificant thing symbolized such normalcy, that alone was enough to make him emotional.

He undid his straight jacket completely and reached up to take off his mask, closing his eyes and fully inhaling the strong smell of the crisp open air, the sun seeping directly into his pores. The only light Hannibal had gotten for the past three-years was through the small skylight of his prison cell and that was covered by a thick glass that diminished the true and pure effect. He hadn’t properly felt the sun, bright and in all it’s glory since one afternoon in Italy, so long ago.

When he first gave himself up to Jack Crawford and the FBI he had an inkling of how difficult it would be. Locked away for life, losing all his privileges, possibly facing a death sentence. But he couldn’t fathom at the time just how hard it would be until he lived it. He had done it for Will, and he would do it again if it meant not losing him.

He was sure Will still despised him, after everything he had done but he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on that. The teacup he’d shattered had remained in pieces, his impulsiveness and dramatics, the traits about himself he hated the most had assured that. He didn’t know how to be…normal. Not that he was any semblance of the word. But he wanted to try, for Will, if he let him.

He took off the straight jacket completely and tossed it into the van behind him, catching Will’s eye again.

“He’s not gunna kill us here,” he said, assuring Will that it was okay to exit the vehicle. “What he wants to do requires something a little more private.”

The serial killer known as The Tooth Fairy, Francis Dolarhyde, was the reason for him escaping in the first place. He was meant to be the lure, to tempt him out of hiding so he could murder him before being forced back into custody. Francis had other plans, attacking the van and police escorts, shooting all of them besides he and Will dead. He was looking for a real fight away from authorities’ eyes. A blessing in disguise, Hannibal was now free for good.

Hannibal began walking toward a police car, a joyous spring in his step.

“What are you doing?” Will said hobbling out of the van, slipping a bit on the gravel at first but righting himself quickly.

“You know, Will, you worry too much.” Hannibal opened the driver’s side of the car and grabbed the dead body of the cop by the neck, pulling him from the car and onto the pavement with a thump.

“You’d be much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself.” He got into the car and drove over to Will, a mere thirty-feet away. He leaned over to open the passenger’s side for Will, tossing another policeman’s body out of the seat to make room for Will, the second body falling at Will’s feet with a comical thud.

Hannibal looked up at Will, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Going my way?”

Will paused, contemplating everything. If he went with Hannibal now the FBI wouldn’t be around the corner to save him from being killed. He would surely not come out of the situation alive if he accepted Hannibal’s proposal. Will reminisced on the past twenty-four hours. Everything that had happened with he and Molly. He had ended it. Whomever he thought he was for those three years hadn’t been him. While he had found semblance of happiness it wasn’t where he belonged and he knew that. There was always something in the back of his mind wanting more. Maybe he was meant for this all along. He couldn’t deny his fate or what his soul craved, yanking him in the opposite direction of a white picket fence toward one much more sinister and black, twisted and horned.

Hannibal held his breath waiting for Will to make his decision. He could of course do what had to be done by himself, but if by grace he survived, he didn’t want to trek his new life without Will by his side. Alone. Not again. Free but imprisoned within his own mind. Away from the one person who understood him. He’d gone without him for so long, as strong as he’d tried to make himself seem to others, Hannibal wasn’t sure he could live without Will. Not really.

Will had once said to him, ‘I’m not sure either of us can survive separation.’

Hannibal never forgot it, those words playing over and over again in his mind for three years, waiting for Will to eventually walk through those prison doors to pay him a visit.

He was right. They were useless alone. But together, feeding off one another’s energy, they were unstoppable.

Will took notice of the blood on the seat, thick and damp clinging to the material. He grimaced.

Hannibal nodded toward the van behind him. “Use the shackle.” Will fetched the straight-jacket and laid it down on the passenger’s side seat and climbed in shutting the door.

They stayed silent for a moment sat next to one another, the closest they had both been without tethers for a long time.

“I’ve only done this once,” Will said finally breaking the silence, reaching for a space under the wheel.

Hannibal started at the proximity, hoping Will hadn’t noticed.

“Cut the power,” Will said.

Hannibal turned the car off.

Will yanked at the bottom panel under the police car wheel and reached for a small box with a few wires protruding. He unhooked the blue and green wires and mixed them up, plugging them back into one another’s place and pulled the red wire out entirely before shoving the box back under the wheel and popping the panel back into place.

“Turn the key,” he said, Hannibal turned the car back on and Will shut his eyes praying an alarm wouldn’t start. Ten seconds passed and it didn’t, he let out the deep breath he’d been holding.

“What was that for?” Hannibal said.

“Disabled the GPS,” Will sat righting himself in his seat. “You wouldn’t want the FBI to find us, would you?” He couldn’t help the sly smirk on his face from forming, proud of himself.

“I forget you used to be a cop,” Hannibal said with a smile.

“I’m useful for more than you give me credit for,” Will said, his tone dry, buckling his seatbelt.

“I’ve never claimed you were useless, Will,” Hannibal said, starting down the road. “Only that you allow your emotions to cloud your judgement of what needs to be done. I need you clear-headed. I need you on my side.”

Hannibal wanted to say, not only after the fight, but he kept that to himself. Desperation wasn’t going to win him Will’s hand.

They made it ten miles down the road in silence before Hannibal spoke again.

“We should pull over and get food. The cabinets are bare where we are heading.”

“One final meal?” Will scoffed.

“You sound optimistic.”

“Realistic.”

“What are you in the mood for? Pork? Lamb?”

Will laughed.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to pick up a hitchhiker on the way?”

Hannibal tried to hide his smile.

They rode in silence for an hour before they reached a high-end grocery store. Hannibal gave Will a list of ingredients to remember.

“What the hell is baharat?”

“A spice for the lamb,” Hannibal said.

“Never heard of it.”

Hannibal closed his eyes in silent frustration with himself, how could he want a man so ignorant in basic culinary terminology. He nearly asked Will to trade him clothes and he would go in to get everything himself but he resisted. He gave Will the rest of the verbal list and Will went in to fetch everything, grateful he had brought cash in his wallet for the luring. He returned half an hour later and they headed back down the road.

“Where are we going exactly?”

“An old secluded residence of mine. Isolated and quiet. The Dragon will try to get the jump on us there, but we will have the advantage.”

This was all suddenly so real. It hadn’t exactly been a fun little road trip until then but the reality of the situation hadn’t truly hit Will until that moment. The Dragon was going to attack, they would fight, and he would die. It wasn’t a possibility but definite. These would be his final hours.

His eyes began to droop, the wave of his impending doom looming over him. He turned to look back out the window watching the fields and trees flicker by. He hoped his dogs would be taken well care of, sure they would be in Molly’s care. He hoped she would find somebody to give her everything he never could, everything he had tried to but was never able to muster up. They had found one another from both being broken souls, being patchwork quits to one another trying to stitch each other up with pieces of themselves but it was never enough. His blanket always had gaping holes missing.

Will began to drift off, not sure how much longer they had to go he decided on a nap. His body was three quarters of the way into the black tide of unconsciousness when he heard Hannibal’s voice soft and singing, a pretty little hum at first that delicately evolved into words. His eyebrows twitched, his eyes remaining closed but his face held curious, he had never heard Hannibal sing before, nor did the man seem like the type to sing in the first place.

It was in a foreign language which Will recognized quickly as Hannibal’s native Lithuanian. It was a pretty tune, sang faint and haunting and oddly soothing lulling Will deeper into sleep but he hung on to the edge, clinging hard, not wanting to miss it. He couldn’t understand the lyrics but he was enjoying the melody and surprisingly Hannibal’s voice, beautiful and enveloping him in a figurative blanket and rocking him to sleep.

Hannibal remembered the song from when he was a child, his father used to sing it to his little sister Mischa at bedtime, he never forgot it. It was a Lithuanian lullaby called “Čiūčia liūlia dukrytėla” which loosely translated to “Hush-a-bye my little daughter”. 

 

 

 

_Čiūčia liūlia dukrytėla_

**[Hush-a-bye, my little daughter]**

 

 

 

 

_Mano mylimoji_

**[My beloved]**  
_Kiek jau kartų per dienelį_

**[How many times during the day]**  
_Tavį pakilojau_  
_Pakilojau panešiojau_  

**[Have I already picked you up]**  
_Patalėlį klojau_

**[I've already picked you up and carried you]**  
_Čiūčia liūlia dukrytėla_

**[Put you down in your cradle]**  
_Mano mylimoji_

**[My beloved]**  
_Auk didutė būk greitutė_

**[Grow up quickly]**  
_Mano dukrytėla_

**[My little daughter]**  
_Čiūčia liūlia dukrytėla_

**[Hush-a-bye, my little daughter]**  
_Mano mylimoji._

**[My beloved]**

Hannibal sang it slowly, three times, before Will fell asleep.


	2. The Cliff

The final crunch of the tires on gravel fading into the smooth transition of driving onto concrete is what woke Will from his deep slumber. Hannibal drove a little further and parked the car under the shade of the awning on the side of the house and cut the engine, relaxing back against his seat.

Will had yet to open his eyes but the sudden shade was apparent as his lids went from shining through orangish, his pink veins ever prevalent to blackening out. He could feel Hannibal’s gaze on him, burning a hole into the back of his head. It wasn’t scary. He felt at ease. Cared for.

Will was waiting to be stirred but Hannibal didn’t say a word. What could be on Hannibal’s mind, he wondered. A few minutes passed and Will kept his breath slow, feigning unconsciousness until Hannibal finally said something.

“Wake up,” his voice was so soft it tingled Will’s spine. He spoke not unlike a father would to their child, a slight coo at the end of his words. “We’re here.”

Will wrinkled his nose and passed his palm over his face, a genuine yawn following close behind. He turned to look at Hannibal, not lifting his head from the seat to make eye contact with the man. “How long was I asleep?”

“A little over an hour.”

Will nodded. He looked out the car window but all he could see was the side of the house and some trees. Hannibal took the hint and opened his door stepping out. “Leave the groceries for a moment, I want to show you something.”

With a sleepy stiff-muscled groan Will opened his door and stepped out. He shielded his eyes for a moment, allowing them to adjust to the light before joining Hannibal’s trek around the side of the house. His hands in his pockets, he eyed the tall glass windows, peering inside in-passing to see all the furniture was covered in white linens.

“Over here,” Hannibal beckoned, turning another corner to walk across a stone landing complete with chairs, a concrete outlined fire-spit, and boulders to lounge on. But ahead was where the view was. Will joined Hannibal at the precipice overlooking the vast expanding ocean. The sun was still risen but was close to setting, splashing the sky with a faint tinge of gold.

Will wasn’t afraid of heights but looking over and watching the waves crash noisily against the rocks hundreds of feet below him made his stomach churn. Something about the scene was daunting and doused him with an overwhelming sense of dread. It felt significant and final.

“The bluff is eroding,” Hannibal said.

Will continued looking down, half bracing himself incase Hannibal’s infamous impulsiveness told him to shove Will from the cliff.

“There was more land when I was here with Abigail.”

  
Will’s eyes shot to Hannibal at the mention of Abigail’s name.

Will had forgiven Hannibal for many things, but never for what he did to Abigail. No matter what he said to lure him out of hiding. Will had never forgiven Hannibal either for keeping him locked away for months under false accusations to save his own neck.

So this was where he had kept Abigail after framing him for her murder? She stayed here for months, alive and secluded, while the world was convinced Will ate her? He had half the mind to toss Hannibal from the cliff himself. His anger washed over him and just as quickly dissipated.

He needed him.

“More land still when I was here with Miriam Lass.”

Jack’s old FBI trainee whom Hannibal had kidnapped and manipulated.

Will glanced at the house for a moment, was this where he brought people before he killed them? Was Hannibal planning to kill Francis and then himself, feast literally on his flesh and mind like he’d always dreamed of? He liked to believe he meant a little bit more to Hannibal than Abigail or Miriam did, but he could never be too sure.

Will looked Hannibal’s face up and down before gazing back out at the ocean view.

“Now you’re here with me,” Will said.

“And the bluff is still eroding.”

Was that symbolism of some kind?

“You and I are suspended over the rolling Atlantic. Soon all this will be lost to the sea.”

Will kept his eye on the waves when Hannibal left him. He heard a shift and drag of stone and turned to see Hannibal removed a stone chair from it’s leg to reveal his hide-a-key before straightening it back up.

“Would you mind fetching the groceries from the car?.”

When Will met Hannibal inside the house with the paper bag of ingredients he saw he had gotten a start on uncovering the furniture from their protective linens. “Put the perishables away in the refrigerator, please,” Hannibal directed as he uncovered the dining table to reveal a long dark cherry wood and glass table. He took a little longer than normal to rub his hands against the soft texture of each linen, nothing in his cell had been that fine.

Will did as directed and immediately went to help Hannibal with unwrapping everything. He took particular interest in the liquor cabinet in the corner of the den. That section of the house was all one wide open space but it was segmented in a way that invisible lines were drawn to separate rooms. Every wall was made of a gigantic window, there would be no privacy at all, at least not in that area of the house.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said after everything was uncovered. He bundled all the linens in his arms. “I’ll shower first if that’s okay with you?”

Will nodded, glancing at the liquor cabinet.

“Help yourself,” Hannibal said. “Francis won’t be here until close to midnight, we have time.”

“How can you be sure of that?” He reached for a whiskey glass and bottle and began pouring.

“An intelligent dragon only fights in the dead of night,” Hannibal said, cocking his head. “They receive their highest dose of power when the moon is directly above them. If our friend Francis is consistent with his Dragon persona, he will strike then.”

Will took a swig of whiskey and nodded. “Let us hope the legend isn’t truth, then.”

Hannibal nodded, clinging to the linens still. “As soon as I’m out I’ll begin cooking. Make yourself at home.”

—

The very instant the warm water made contact with Hannibal’s skin he gasped, closing his eyes, his lips twisting into a smile in sheer euphoria as he stepped fully under the stream allowing his body to be enveloped. For three years he had cleaned himself with a sponge dipped into a basin brimming with lukewarm water, every time dreaming of the day when he would experience a true shower again. He rubbed his face pointed up toward the water and raked his fingers through his own hair, laughing joyously. He stayed in there for nearly an hour taking his time cleaning every crevice and reveling in his found again freedom.

By the time Hannibal got out of the shower the sun had set almost completely. The skyline still burning a soft purple as he joined Will in the front of the house again, a comfortable pair of black sweatpants adorning his lower half and a white long-sleeved cotton top. Forgetting the formalities of fanciness and being prim and proper, he was going to be comfortable. He passed Will on the couch who was on his second tumbler of whiskey, his wet hair dripping onto his white shirt flecking the material with droplets of water. Will stared after him as he made his way to the kitchen, he’d never seen Hannibal dressed in such a way. So nonchalant and relaxed. The sight eased his mind.

“How’s the whiskey?” Hannibal preheated the oven and began to gather the ingredients from the fridge.

“Delicious,” Will said. “Smooth. Oaky.”

Hannibal eyed at the bottle on the coffee table. “That’s one of the newer bottles, why don’t you try the Nikka. It’s Japanese. If I recall I have a bottle from the first roll out in nineteen-thirty four.”

“Maybe with dinner,” Will said with a groan as he stood from the couch, drink in hand as he made his way over to the kitchen island to watch Hannibal work.

“The shower is all yours,” Hannibal said giving Will a warm smile. “I’d prefer to cook alone right now, if you don’t mind. It’s been a while.”

For a moment Will thought Hannibal looked human. Normal. His eyes kind and his smile genuine.

Will took a deep pull of his whiskey downing the rest. He held the glass up, a silent gesture asking where he should put it. Hannibal held out his hand and accepted the tumbler. “When you get out dinner should be ready.” He went to the sink to set down the glass and clean the rack of lamb.

With Will gone Hannibal could let out his emotion of being in the kitchen again without judgement. Cooking and the art of preparing food was his favorite past time, something he never thought he would able to to experience again. He’d regretfully taken it for granted and frequently found himself buried in his mind palace for hours on end concocting recipes and dreaming of new flavors, reciting his old favorites back to himself like a nursery rhyme to lull himself to sleep nearly every night.

Food was his passion, above everything else. Always had been. He took a second to wipe a tear from his eye with the corner of his palm as he seasoned the meat. Being in the kitchen truly felt like home. If this was indeed his last meal he would prepare he would make it memorable.

In the shower Will stood bracing himself facing the wall as the water cascaded down his body. He breathed slowly reveling in the feeling of what he was sure would be his final cleansing. Everything came to a head at that very moment. What was he doing? Was he fucking insane? Why would be come here? Could he trust Hannibal at all?

He opened his eyes continuing to stare down, bringing his left hand forward. His ring line still etched in his skin, a slight change in color from where the band laid for years. He rubbed at the skin there with his other hand trying to make it all go away, a pointless gesture. He had dragged Molly into his shit show of a life, and for what? He loved her but his heart never belonged to her. Not completely. His mind was too corrupted to care about someone so deeply, like she deserved. Will hoped when he was dead Molly would find someone who would treat her like gold, in the way he never could. She deserved happiness and contentment and safety for herself and Walter. He was crazy if he thought at any moment that could be him. He wasn’t built for that. He was damaged, and his passions lied elsewhere, as much as he denied it.

Breaking it off with Molly was easier than he’d ever imagined. She wasn’t angry, in fact Will swore he saw her smile. Their run was fun while it lasted, although most of it was feigned. They were two lost souls clinging to one another but were connected with the flimsiest of materials, their foundation muddy to start with.

Upon exiting the shower the smell of a delicious meal wafted into Will’s nostrils. He eagerly got dressed in clothing he found in one of the drawers and made his way back into the front room again.

“Borrowed some of your clothes,” Will said joining Hannibal in the kitchen. “Hope it’s alright.” He was wearing clothing similar to Hannibal’s in means of comfort, sweatpants and grey t-shirt. He was surprised to find a plain shirt in Hannibal’s collection at all, he never pegged him for the type to wear something so basic.

“It smells delicious,” Will said with a smile hoisting himself up onto the bar stool at the island to watch Hannibal finish up. “Would you like any help?”

“No thank you,” Hannibal said with a meek smile. “How was your shower?” He began plating the meal.

“At least I’ll die clean,” Will said, his tone dry as bone.

“Just don’t die hungry,” Hannibal said, slightly annoyed at Will’s outward pessimism of the situation but he kept quiet. It would be hypocritical seeing as how he had been feeling the same. “Do me a favor and grab the oldest red I have from the cabinet.” He wanted he and Will to dine like kings, just incase. 

“This is exquisite,” Will complimented after his third bite of lamb. It hadn’t had much time to tenderize properly and yet it melted in his mouth. How had he done it?

“I appreciate that,” Hannibal said taking a bite himself.

“Would you berate me if you knew this was my first time eating lamb?” Will said before taking a small sip of his wine.

Hannibal shook his head. “I may be slightly irked but I still have manners, Will. I take great delight in being the catalyst of your first taste of something.”

Will scoffed. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Hannibal hid his smirk behind his own wine glass before taking a swig.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company in a comfortable silence before Hannibal spoke up.

“Where’s your ring?”

Will sighed audibly, following Hannibal gaze to his own hand.

“It didn’t work out.”

“Was there trouble in paradise before I contacted Francis or is this all my doing?”

“Would it matter to you if there had been?”

“I noticed in the car, the question has been gnawing in the forefront of my skull since.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Would it matter?” Hannibal pursed his lips. “Possibly.”

“You didn’t cause the end of my marriage,” Will said. “Not singlehandedly, anyway. It was never a pure union. I went into it knowing that. Hoping I could salvage what you left of me into something capable of loving. It was a farce from day one. Not consciously. I thought I was happy.”

“I missed you,” Hannibal said, the words falling from between his lips before he could catch them and hold them back.

“I know.”

Their eyes met.

“I thought about you every day,” Hannibal said, laying everything on the table. “Nearly a thousand days…”

Will nodded.

“I did a good job of forgetting you for a while,” Will said. “Until Jack came knocking I hadn’t thought of you for over a year.”

Hannibal sat back an inch but his face didn’t change. That stung.

“Seeing you again though…” Will said, taking another sip of wine, needing it to say what he wanted to say next. “The front I put on. Whatever I said. I couldn’t help but yearn for your company. Being around you again started the dreams back up.”

“Tell me of them?” Hannibal said.

Will shook his head. “It’s nothing important. Your figure was just there. Looming over me, instead of filling me with dread like in the past it comforted me. Reminded me where I belonged. What my story would eventually lead me back to. A sick foreshadowing of destiny.”

They paused and enjoyed the silence again, Hannibal’s mind blank, too scared to allow himself to feel everything Will was saying, if he did his emotions might not have been containable.

“I want to be with you,” Will said under his breath. “If this is the end. I want to feel it all.” He looked up to gauge Hannibal’s reaction.

“By which you mean…”

“I think you know what I mean.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left, and the smut...it’s coming.


	3. Touch Starved

“You mean intimately?” Hannibal’s voice was soft, so soft Will barely heard his words.

Will took a moment before nodding.

“Isn’t that something you want?” Will took another sip of his wine.

Hannibal sat back another inch, looking off to the side, not staring at anything in particular. His mind was racing and he struggled to keep his breath steady, not wanting to embarrass himself by seeming too eager.

“It is,” he admitted. The air of the place suddenly felt too thick and Hannibal wanted to get up and run as fast as he could outside to draw some fresh air into his lungs, a panic attack beginning to bloom in his chest. He forced himself to breathe slowly for half a minute, curing himself without making a scene.

“Is it…” Hannibal started needing another breath against first. “Is it something you truly want, Will?”

He kept his eyes downcast, feeling the burn of the man he’d been in love with for years staring at him. No menace in his glare, a passive look on his ever handsome face.

Will nervously fidgeted with his fingers on the stem of his wine glass, trying to find the words before speaking.

“You know…I’ve known you’ve wanted me in that way for years,” Will said, his lithe fingers hovering over the crystal and moving down in a delicate motion, the pads of his fingers moving smoothly down it and back up again. “They weren’t blatant, your feelings, but they weren’t exactly subtle either.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Will said. “I understand. You have feelings for me because I understand you, in a way nobody else ever has. With me there is no hiding. I know exactly who you are.”

“You’re the only one who does,” Hannibal sighed. “The only one who ever could.”

Will nodded. “I know.”

“Is it just to indulge me? Or is it something you also want?” Hannibal pried, needing to know. “I’m not looking for pity, nor am I looking to be used for one last good time just incase you do indeed end up dying in this fight.”

“I would never use you in that way, don’t insult me,” their eyes met, Hannibal inwardly cowered under his glare.

Silence filled the room again, the dishes in front of them sat half-eaten and abandoned.

“It was never sexual for me,” Will spoke up. “Never once crossed my mind. Not once. Not until that day when I brought you Randall’s corpse. You helped clean me up. Coaxed me out of wanting to retreat. I never told a soul, not even myself at length, the thoughts that crossed my mind in those minutes. Of course you know now killing Randall was a ploy to pull you out into admitting what you are, to think I was on your side. But in those moments, with your hand gliding over mine in the basin…I felt closer to you in that moment than I ever felt with my wife.”

Hannibal exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“So yes, if you’re wondering if I want it too, I do,” Will said. “I always thought in the darkest recesses of my mind that it would happen eventually. In parts that I never thought would see the light. So why not now? If we’re going to die in a few hours, shouldn’t we make the most of it?”

“I don’t have…provisions.”

“We don’t need them,” Will shrugged.

If they were going to die, why would it matter? It wasn’t like either of them were very promiscuous.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Will sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before reaching for his wine glass again. “I feel like I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal paused before finding the words. If it were ever the time to honest it was then.

“I want to take my time with you,” he said, mustering the strength to make eye contact with Will, once he did he didn’t look away. “Savor you like the rarest wine. I want you close to me. Want to whisper in your ear all the things I’ve dreamt of doing with you for years. I want to taste your skin, your sweat against my lips, quenching every thirst I’ve ever been burdened with in this meaningless lifetime.”

Will inhaled sharply.

Hannibal chuckled. “Too much?”

“No,” Will shook his head. “No. Not at all.”

“You need your strength,” Hannibal said picking his fork back up and gesturing to Will’s half eaten plate of lamb, homemade potato purée and spinach. “Finish your meal.”

They dug back in, eating in silence until their forks were scrapping against crystal.

“Do you want the sorbet?” Hannibal said. He had Will buy an orange and lime sorbet from the store earlier. It wasn’t hand-made and it came in a tub but it had always been one of Hannibal’s guilty pleasures.

“Do you?” Will shot back at him.

“Not particularly.”

Hannibal rose collecting the dishes and headed to clean up, Will followed him. “Let me,” he said. “You cooked.”

“It’s quite alright, Will,” Hannibal said. Things as small as the simple chore of doing the dishes had been missed in prison. “Go relax on the couch, I’ll join you shortly.”

Will followed Hannibal’s command, plopping himself down on the couch with a deep exhale. He kept his eyes on the bottle of whiskey he’d failed to return to the liquor cabinet. Would he need another glass before he went through with what he was about to go through with? No. It wasn’t something he needed to convince himself of or coax himself into doing with alcohol. He’d wanted Hannibal intimately for a long time, as much as he’d tried to deny it. He’d never known himself as well as he’d known himself in the company of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He was keen on knowing himself even better by the night’s end.

Washing up the dishes had never been as difficult as that evening. Hannibal couldn’t put a stop to the shaking of his hands. He turned to make sure Will wasn’t watching him and he wasn’t, still sat on the couch staring out the huge windows into the darkness outside, the back of his head barely visible from over the back of the couch. Hannibal gripped the sink with both hands and closed his eyes breathing slowly, soothing himself and telling himself it would all be okay.

He was terrified he would make a fool of himself or reach his peak too early. Everything pent up inside him for years would surely come crashing down at a humiliating speed. He gave himself a quick pep talk, assuring himself that everything would be fine. He was getting what he’d always wanted. He didn’t want to ruin that with paranoia or insecurities. He needed to readopt his confident demeanor and become someone Will would want.

The water of the sink turned off and Will pursed his lips waiting for Hannibal to join him on the couch. His pulse quickened hearing Hannibal’s sock-padded feet making his way over to him. Hannibal walked around plopping himself onto the couch feet away from Will, his elbows on his knees, face immediately finding solace in his hands. He exhaled before finding the courage to look over at Will.

“I’m terrified,” Hannibal said, speaking his honest truth.

Will sat up and scooted closer while still keeping a foots distance between them.

“Of what?” He said softly.

“Many things. That I’ll disappoint. That you’ll regret it. That it won’t be as I’ve always imagined, that I’ve always dreamed of, hoped for. That these are our final hours. That I finally get you and it’s only once.” He was laying everything on the table. He’d been so secretive his entire life, never telling anyone what was in his heart. But Will held the key, always had. His insecurities had lied stowed away in a locked vault his entire life, but he wasn’t afraid of Will seeing them, not anymore. Will Graham was the one thing Hannibal loved in this entire God forsaken world and he was going to tell him everything, while he still could.

Will placed his palm gently on Hannibal’s back causing the older man to start from the touch. Hannibal was reminded of the last time their bodies had made any sort of physical contact. Three years ago, trudging through the snow carrying Will’s unconscious body away from Muskrat Farm after saving him from being mutilated. Taking him back to his house and cleaning him up carefully and dressing him in his own clothes again, his signature plaid a pleasant contrast from the blood soaked clothing he’d dressed him in in Italy. The evening Will awoke and told him he didn’t have his appetite, that all hope for them as friends or anything more would never come to fruition. That he never wanted to see him or think of him again. That was the night Hannibal turned himself in and secured his prison sentence. What was the point of being free if Will didn’t want to walk alongside him in this tortuous life?

Will’s hand on him, as innocent as it was sent shockwaves rippling through his body, reminding him of just how badly he’d wanted him for so long. How much he’d been craving his touch again even in the friendliest of ways.

“Don’t worry about any of that,” Will said, his mouth inches from Hannibal’s ear, his palm continuing to rub the cotton shirt on Hannibal’s back, a soothing motion. “We have three hours. Let’s use them to their fullest. Do what feels right?”

“And it feels right to you?” Hannibal said, meeting Will’s eye, his unexpected proximity causing his heart to slam against his rib cage.

Will paused before nodding.

“It does,” Will said. He realized if anything was going to start he would need to make the first move. His palm moved to cup Hannibal’s cheek, he gauged his reaction a second before moving his head forward. Hannibal flinched back as if he wanted to say something, perhaps in protest. “Shh. It’s okay,” Will assured him, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Hannibal’s.

Hannibal saw their first meeting. Will, at the time, being a defensive stranger who was not-fond-of-eye-contact. Attractive but a bit unhinged. In prison Hannibal frequently found himself reverting back to that day, reminiscing before the time when the name Will Graham made his breath quicken ever so slightly. Back when he had no idea how much the man would eventually mean to him.

Will’s lips were soft against his. Every synapse in Hannibal’s brain was firing and igniting, his mind an unyielding inferno three seconds in. Will opened his mouth just slightly and Hannibal’s lips followed like a dance latching slowly and moving together with his paramour’s. Will’s palm pressed harder against Hannibal’s cheek, directing his movements as they kissed. Hannibal’s tongue unexpectedly sliding against Will’s caused him to gasp into the kiss and retreat for a moment.

Will opened his eyes and saw Hannibal’s, soft and pleading in apology, had he gone too far too fast? Will leant back in and joined their lips, silencing Hannibal’s paranoid thoughts with a kiss so soft it caused a tear to stream from Hannibal’s eye. Will felt the wetness on his thumb and pulled back again just slightly. “Why are you crying?” He wiped the rest of the tear away.

Hannibal wanted to tell him he loved him, wanted to tell Will he was all he could think of for those three years, to confess he had been everything to him for so long. He wanted to express how he never thought this would happen, that it was unfathomable and this all felt like a dream. But he was sure Will already knew. He knew.

Instead of answering him he just shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he held Hannibal’s face with both hands.

“Why are you doing this? Why are we…”

“I can’t get you out of my head. My inner voice sounds like you. Breathes to the tune of you. Everything you’ve…” moments of every despicable thing Hannibal has ever done flickered through his mind like a sick photo album, but instead of repel him It drew him in, empathizing with his reasons, craving to cure and understand. “I haven’t forgiven it all, but I’ve begun to. Anyone else I wouldn’t…but with you. I feel like I’m a part of you when we’re thousands of miles apart, I’m curious how I’ll feel when we really are one.”

Hannibal gasped and Will kissed it away, their lips playing together for a while more before Will was nuzzling against him and retreating into kissing his neck. He smelled good, the corner of his neck bare of the scent of cologne, it was just him, just Hannibal. Will had only been with women, only attracted to women, except this man, his one exception. He could stay in his neck for hours breathing in his natural scent, the way Hannibal arched his neck as he kissed there. His breath ragged.

“We should probably go to the bedroom,” Will chuckled airily, leaving another kiss directly over Hannibal’s jugular vein, sensing the blood pumping there at a quickened pace. “These windows don’t allow for much privacy.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement.

They both stood from the couch and made their way to the back room passing paintings and doors until they entered the main sleeping quarters which en-suite bathroom they had both showered in earlier. A large California King sized bed in the center of the room was made, black comforter on top, red and white ornately decorated pillows at the head.

Will noticed Hannibal’s shaking, ever so slightly. He took Hannibal’s hand in his to stop the trembling and brought him close, kissing him again. Will began backing up toward the bed. “Take your time,” Will said, his lips hovering over Hannibal’s as he spoke. “You said you wanted to savor me? Go ahead.” He kissed him in a soft peck. “Do what you want.” Their noses nuzzled before their lips met again.

Will’s hand moved up Hannibal’s thigh causing Hannibal’s breath to stutter. His palm snaked to the front to cup Hannibal’s hardened cock through his sweatpants. Hannibal’s hand immediately captured Will’s in his own and squeezed, halting his movement. “Will,” he breathed hot against his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Hannibal could sense Will’s smirk, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Hannibal didn’t want to tell Will he was dangerously close to tipping over the edge already, they had barely touched.

“Sit down,” Will said, it wasn’t a command but a gentle suggestion.

Will retreated his hand until they’d both sat on the side of the bed together. He started again by kissing his neck, his hand returning to the front of Hannibal’s pants. “Will, please,” Hannibal sighed, Will shushed him softly continuing the gentle assault of his cock over the fabric. He adjusted their bodies until they were both laying down, Hannibal’s face buried in the crick of Will’s neck giving Will’s bicep pulsing squeezes, his breath hitching with every movement of the man’s hand.

“Nobody…nobody has…been so long.”

“I know,” Will cooed, his hand squeezing a little more, adding just a bit more pressure. “I understand. Just let go.

Hannibal shook his head. “Too fast,” he breath was heating Will’s neck. “T…too soon.”

“It’s okay,” Will assured him, pumping his hand at a quickened pace. “C’mon,” he nuzzled his cheek against the top of Hannibal’s head, his other hand behind Hannibal’s shoulders clutching him against his body.

Hannibal bucked his hips forward with a whine, Will’s name on his lips. His hand finding purchase in Will’s hair, gripping his curls along with the back of his head, his sounds echoing off Will’s neck as he came. Will stroked him through it, continuing to pet him, milking his orgasm. Hannibal’s hips bucked forward chasing his pleasure as the man he loved continued to touch him. Until it got to be too much. His hand met the top of Will’s, a silent plea for him to stop. He was overstimulated but his lips still vibrated with sounds, light and whimpering. They were causing Will’s own cock to throb in his own sweatpants but he stayed focused on Hannibal, making sure he felt attended to and safe. His hand moving to stroke his cheek.

Will knew nobody had held Hannibal for so long, he hadn’t been touched as a friend or lover for years.  
Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal pulling him into to a deep embrace, petting at the back of Hannibal’s head listening to his sighs and left over whines from his climax. Hannibal clung back to him, squeezing as if he never wanted to let go. He began to cry openly, sobbing out Will’s name. He could feel Hannibal’s tears wetting the skin of his neck.

Will shushed him softly again, still clinging to him and petting his hair. He allowed Hannibal to cry it out as he held him, not being able to fathom what it must have been like for him. Locked up. No contact with the outside world. Not so much as engaging in a simple handshake for three years. It had all been for him, all for Will, so he would know where to find him if he ever wanted to. Hannibal had done everything for him. The least he could do was embrace him in assurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not for a few hours at least.

“I’m here,” Will said. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

They lay together for a while, Will soothing Hannibal and kissing the side of his face allowing him to get all his emotions out, every tear that had been bottled up for three years dying on Will’s skin. Time suspended, forgetting about the time restraint, just focusing on one another. Will faintly felt Hannibal’s hand move between them but his mind was foggy, feeling like he and Hannibal were somewhere else all together when Hannibal’s hand wrapped around him through his cotton pants. Will gasped and arched back, a lackadaisical attempt to escape his touch. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Hannibal nuzzled him. “Lay back. Please. Let me?”

Will nodded, letting him go and lying down on the bed so his back was flush against the comforter. Hannibal laid pressed up against him kissing the side of Will’s face and rubbing his hand against Will’s chest through the t-shirt. Slowly he moved his hand down until his palm was over his clothed cock again cupping and rubbing. Hannibal joined his lips against Will’s again, tasting the deep exhales being expelled against his lips. Will moaned, music to Hannibal’s ears. No symphony could ever compare. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, finally in the position to make Will feel good after bringing so much pain and heartbreak to his life.

“May I undress you?” Hannibal asked, kissing the side of his mouth.

Will nodded, his eyes remaining closed focused on Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal stood at the edge of the bed taking his own clothes off in haste before taking all the time in the world undressing Will. The shirt was pulled over Will’s head ruffling his hair, the sweatpants were tugged down his hips, Hannibal’s palms staying halfway on his thighs and half on the material as he slowly dragged them down and off. By the time he was done Will was naked, the light from the moon shining in from the wall-sized window facing the water over the cliff bathed Will’s body in a bluish-hue.  
The color of the light accentuated the scar across Will’s lower stomach. Hannibal’s chest constricted. That was his fault, something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

Will looked up at him, his eyebrow furrowing in confusion at first, about to ask him what he was doing before he realized Hannibal was taking his time drinking his body in. He stood for nearly a minute before he spoke.

“You look beautiful,” Hannibal said softly.

“So do you,” Will’s eyes flicked up and down Hannibal’s nude frame, a lick of his lips.

Hannibal gazed down at his own body, a disbelieving blush on his cheeks.

“Come here,” Will said.

Hannibal began to crawl onto the bed close to him but stopped, wanting to take it slow. He left a kiss on Will’s ankle, moving up kissing his calve, his knee, his thigh, his hip, his lips never leaving Will’s skin dragging delicately up his body tasting him along the way. He could smell Will’s arousal the closer he got but he bypassed that area for a moment until his mouth was hovering over the scar he cut into his flesh so many years ago.

He gripped Will’s sides and kissed the scar tissue, a long languid peck, nuzzling into the flesh there, his forehead resting on the white cut as Will’s hands met the back of his head petting his hair. “I’m sorry,” Hannibal said, his voice slightly muffled. He righted his head to look up at Will into his eyes, Will’s hands shifting to pet Hannibal’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

A moment of silence filled the room before Will spoke.

“I forgive you.”

Hannibal turned to kiss Will’s palm, another tear streamed down his cheek. Will wiped it away.

Will had never seen Hannibal so raw before, so utterly broken and regretful. A man like him wasn’t the type to cry when being touched, to plant kisses so delicate they took your breath away. This was the Hannibal that only Will was allowed to see, and only very rarely. The Hannibal that belonged to Will mind, body, and soul.

Hannibal backed away from Will’s hand moving down until his breath was heating the head of the cock flushed hard against his groin. Without hesitation his tongue swiped out to run the flat of it along the tip. Will gasped, his fingers immediately finding and carding through Hannibal’s hair, the sensation causing his back to arch and his head to fall back. Hannibal smirked, his lips against Will’s shaft before leaving another long lick up and enveloping his cock in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Will sighed, his hips pressing up trying to slide himself deeper down Hannibal’s throat.

Hannibal allowed Will to fuck his mouth and take whatever he desired, clinging to his sides, his fingers digging into the flesh there. Will’s voice full of deep groans mixed with pretty little panting sounds egged Hannibal on to do more, popping off and lowering his head to lap and suck on his balls, moving back up his tongue never lifting to leave hot breathy open-mouthed kissed on the head.

“Want you inside me,” Hannibal sighed. “Please…want you to fuck me.”

Hannibal ground his cock against the sheets beneath him, almost fully hard again despite having come not too long ago.

“We don’t…have any lube,” Will was having trouble speaking when Hannibal’s mouth was on him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hannibal left a lasting peck on Will’s shaft before stilling.

“I’ll be right back.”

He hopped off the bed and was gone. Will began to worry something went wrong, despite not hearing anything alarming, when he returned carrying a small tub of something.

“What’s that?”

“Coconut oil,” he joined him on the bed again.

“And it works?” Will sat up.

Hannibal nodded. “It’s the next best thing.” Typically Hannibal didn’t need lube but it had been a long time since he’d had any kind of sex much less anal penetrative sex, and he wanted to be careful. Plus it eased Will’s mind to have it and that was all that mattered. He set the tub on the bedside table and joined Will laying beside him, their lips meeting again dancing together. Will blindly reached for the tub.

“Have you ever…”

Will shook his head.

Hannibal tried to hide his smirk. “I didn’t think so.” He moved away from Will just slightly to lay his back onto the comforter, situating his legs so his feet were flush against the fabric.

“Coat your middle and index fingers,” he instructed.

Will opened the tub with a shaky hand, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion again at the seemingly hard white substance inside. Hannibal hid the roll of his eyes.

“Take a bit and rub in between your hands, it liquifies.”

Will did just that, until his fingers were coated. Hannibal lifted his legs just slightly. “It’s not that much different,” he pet Will’s cheek. Hannibal knew Will had only been with women until then but he was willing to walk him through all he needed to in order to make him feel comfortable. Anything for Will.

Will leant to kiss him again, his fingers blindly finding Hannibal hole and beginning to rub hot wet circles into the warm flesh there. Hannibal gasped into Will’s mouth, his cock filling out the rest of the way from the simple motion. He’d touched himself there multiple times imagining Will’s hand. Never did he fathom it would ever actually happen.

His middle finger pressed in without much resistance and Hannibal whined at the intrusion.

“That’s all I need, just a little more,” he clutched Will’s forearm between his legs feeling the muscles of his arm ripple as he pressed in and back out again. “Stretch me open just a little, want to feel you entirely.” He didn’t want Will’s fingers to ruin it all. Will pressed his index finger easily in alongside the middle, pumping his wrist back and forth softly finger fucking him. Hannibal gasped sharply, halting Will’s movement squeezing hard on his forearm. He felt close too fast again.

“Please,”Hannibal sighed.

Will retreated his fingers and gathered more coconut oil, rubbing a healthy amount between his hands before coating his own cock with it, stroking himself a few times and situating himself between Hannibal’s legs, spreading him open a bit, pressing his legs back just slightly.

They made eye contact.

“Please,” Hannibal said again, his palms moving from the top of Will’s chest down, the tip of his finger tracing his scar again staring there for a moment before looking back up to meet his blue eyes.

Will looked down at Hannibal so open and needy for him, so pliant and begging. Never had he seen something so beautiful. So his. Completely. The man he once detested with every fiber was now what he desired the most. What a strange turn of events.

He pushed on the backs of Hannibal’s thighs and lined himself up. He didn’t need to say a word, their eyes said it all. Will pressed in, his eyes falling shut as he entered him. Hannibal’s jaw dropped and his eyelids flickered, wanting to keep his eyes on Will the entire time but failing tremendously. Hannibal pressed his palms over Will’s hands still pressing against the backs of his legs and laced their fingers together as he pressed in deeper stretching him open.

Hannibal whimpered, rubbing Will’s hands with his thumbs.

“Move,” he sighed.

Will drew his hips back and drove in, a rough but steadied motion, losing his balance, unlacing his fingers and catching himself with his hands on the mattress resting on either side of Hannibal’s head. He drove in all the way at the same time as he lowered his body, crashing his lips against Hannibal’s breathing in the air he took away from him.

He retreated and dove back, his hips snapping, Hannibal’s hands finding purchase against his back holding on as Will pounded him into the mattress, his nails scratching his flesh as they moaned into one another’s mouths.

Their bodies were a blur, blending and waning together. Their minds were one. Every ounce of pent up hatred, of admiration, of longing they’d ever had for one another came to a head. Each thrust Will made into his body caused the tears in Hannibal’s eyes to tumble from over the lids, drenching his ecstasy filled face with wetness, Will tasted them too.

“I’m close,” Will breathed, Hannibal’s warmth all around him radiating through his skin to his core. His arms were trembling. Hannibal nodded, their faces nuzzling. He was relinquishing all control. Ever paranoid, he didn’t care. Not when Will was involved. Not when they were so close.

“Go ahead,” Hannibal whispered. He was saving himself for the moment when they could both lose control together.

One final hard thrust into Hannibal’s body and the world crashed down upon them both. They clung to one another for stability as they both came at the same time, feeding one another their moans and whimpers.

Will’s body convulsed, shaking as he struggled to not completely collapse onto Hannibal. He noticed in his haziness and gently pulled Will down on top of himself, kissing his face and helping milk him through his orgasm, feeling so completely full literally and figuratively.

“Will,” he panted. “The stars shine for you.”

—

“It’s almost midnight,” Will said, his eyes flickering to the analog clock hung on the opposite wall above the dresser. It read eleven-twenty-four. Hannibal was curled up against his side clinging to him, his head resting on Will’s chest. Will’s hand was kept busy in Hannibal’s hair, smoothing it back occasionally and kissing his forehead. They’d been laying that way for nearly an hour. Barely speaking verbally, just enjoying one another‘s presence, for as long as they still could. “We should get up. Get dressed,” he chuckled. He imagined fighting Francis in their current state would pose a problem.

Hannibal nodded. Neither of them said it aloud but they were petrified. These were very well the last few moments of their lives. “I would like to dress for the occasion. If this is night I die I want to look my best.”

Will smiled. He wouldn’t expect any different from Hannibal.

They bathed again, this time together, taking turns washing one another, a few stolen kisses here and there under the stream of warm water.

“You go,” Hannibal said once Will was clean, signaling him to get out of the shower. “I’ll be out in a bit.” He wanted to be alone for a moment. Will nodded, cupping Hannibal’s face and kissing him one last time, like it was the very last. The kiss, an unspoken pact, that they would do anything they needed to to help one another survive this. Hannibal clung to Will’s wet arms, deepening the kiss before Will was pulling back.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, pressing his forehead against Hannibal’s for a moment before leaving the shower and not looking back.

With Will gone he could allow himself to think more clearly. He would do anything to protect him. Anything. If he couldn’t and Will died he would never be able to forgive himself. He couldn’t fail him. Not again.

By the time Hannibal got out of the shower and made his way back into the bedroom Will was no longer there. Hannibal picked himself out some clothing, a grey long-sleeved sweater and dinner jacket, a pair of slacks and a pair of Burberry’s.

He made his way to the front room again, passing his paintings. Would it be the last time he ever saw those? The last time he ever enjoyed art? Music? Will had put one of his classical piano CDs on to play over the house stereo, the closer he got to the front room the better he heard it.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Will again, facing the dark window, hands in his pockets. The man who had just been inside him, with him, a part of him, and yet seeing him like that, so normal and poised was difficult to approach. Will had chosen a white button-up of his and a pair of simple black slacks. Hannibal purveyed Will’s reflection. He looked beautiful. For how much longer, he wondered.

Hannibal walked through the kitchen and grabbed the two clean glasses from dinner and the left over bottle of wine and made his way toward Will. He took a deep breath before making his presence known.

Will noticed Hannibal’s reflection in the glass in front of him and watched him walk closer. This was it. This was the end.

“You’re playing games with yourself in the dark of the moon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Like I said in my first note, this is without a doubt the most difficult thing I’ve ever written. Trying to keep Hannibal and Will feeling genuine to the story and trying to make it as realistic and fitting to canon as possible took forever. I’m pretty pleased with the final result and I hope you are too!
> 
> I should say a disclaimer, I personally don’t believe, in the context of the actual show, that they had sex off camera in those hours but if they did, this is how I imagine it to have happened :)
> 
> I have a song recommendation! It’s called “Let’s Hurt Tonight” by One Republic and it’s been the song I’ve always pertained to the ending of Wrath of the Lamb but with this added intimacy this story delves into the song is even more fitting! Check it out! :)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a comment! :)


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